Lost
by Gabriel87
Summary: After making plans to elope with Raoul, Christine returns to the statue of Apollo's lyre on a desperate hunt for her lost gold ring - not knowing that the Phantom is still there. Leroux style, E/C as always.


The ring was gone.

Heaven help me, but the ring was gone!

It was such a small, simple thing...a plain gold band, which I wore on my finger as the price of my liberty.

It did not take me long to discover the horrible truth. My fingers were constantly caressing it...it was a nervous habit. Touching it, twisting it...it was the tangible reminder of Erik's promise to conduct himself with honor and respect towards me, and even in my darkest hours that promise gave me courage.

With the ring on my finger, I could play at being engaged to Raoul. What harm could there be in it? Raoul was happy, and Erik wouldn't interfere...so I swallowed my fear in a false hilarity as we played our game like thoughtless children.

At least until it tumbled around us like a house of cards.

Raoul was not satisfied. I suppose if I had been aware of myself, I would have realized the cruelty I was exposing him to. But I was not aware.

I was only afraid.

I had confessed it all to him, there under Apollo's lyre.

I've heard that when an animal is cornered they turn unpredictable...I had convinced Raoul to take me away..._forever_! We even _kissed_...until the night was rent asunder by a horrible cry.

It was as if Heaven itself abused me for my calumny.

We ran through the passage ways, back to the safety of my little dressing room.

We discussed the details of the following night's escape. Raoul was not pleased to wait, but I could not be so horrible. I must sing for Erik, one last time...I would pour out my soul to him, and to him alone. I would give myself to him in music, lovingly and freely...

...and perhaps, with _that_, he would be satisfied...

Raoul left my room, and I slumped into my little chair. My fingers felt distractedly for the ring, for the comfort of knowing that Erik would leave me in peace, just long enough to commit my horrible deception...

But it was gone!

...

I ran through the dark, winding passages which lead towards the roof. I was normally afraid to wander the halls of the Opera at night, let _alone_ by myself, but this was far too important...far too _vital_.

The ring must have slipped from my finger when I sat frantically twisting it under Apollo's lyre. It had most likely fallen into the street, but still...

...there was always a _chance_...

As long as there was a chance I had to look. If Erik saw that the ring was gone _before_ tomorrow night...

The thought drove me harder and I practically bolted up the rickety wooden ladders to the rooftop.

I burst through the little wooden door and the cold midnight air stung my face. The evening had been pleasant and refreshing, but with the sun gone the temperature had dropped...

With a sudden horror at my own stupidity, I realized that I couldn't see.

Oh, I could pick out the general landscape...the domes, the water tanks, and as I stepped lightly towards it I could even make out the strings of Apollo's lyre...

But the ground itself was cloaked in shadows so thick I might as well have been looking for my ring in a pot of ink.

When I reached the statue's base, I fell to my knees, frantically scrabbling at the ground with my bare fingers. Nothing...nothing...I could distantly hear dry sobs cracking in my throat, as if from another world.

Nothing would break my concentration!

I scratched like a terrier until my fingers ached, and my palms and nails were encrusted with dirt. It was futile. With a despairing shriek, I collapsed in a heap and wept bitterly.

Dear God...it was gone forever. I had broken my faith with Erik, and the ring was lost...

_I_ was lost...

With sudden, alarming surety, I knew I wasn't alone.

Erik approached, calmly and deliberately, until he stood about a foot from my prone body.

"Why, Christine!" he said, his unholy voice tinged with amusement. "Whatever are you doing on your hands and knees?"

My gaze traveled up his impossibly tall figure until I found his eyes, blazing fierce and golden in the dark.

_"Looking for this?"_

Between his thumb and index finger, he held my ring.

I closed my eyes, feeling curiously resigned.

My doom had come upon me.

Like a miserable supplicant, I grasped the fabric of his trousers and looked up at him.

He did not move.

"Erik," I whispered pitifully, "Erik, please...give me back my ring."

"Oh, my dearest," he sighed, his voice full of sorrow, "whatever for?"

"Please...I want my ring..."

He growled.

"This _ring_," he snapped, "was given to you in return for certain _assurances_! Tell me, do you remember them?"

"Of course," I said.

"_I_ was to leave you in peace," he spat out, "respect your _privacy_, just like any honorable suitor would! And in return, _you_ promised not to be a deceitful little _chit_!"

The word was like a slap in the face, and I felt tears sting my eyes.

"Tell me, Christine," he said, his tones now deceptively sweet, "have you kept your end of the bargain?"

"I...I..."

"Or perhaps your _interlude_ with Viscount Raoul de Chagney was merely an amusing little farce, put on for my benefit...eh? Is that it?"

"No!" I shrieked.

He chuckled sinisterly.

"I must admit, my dear, that your conversation was _utterly_ diverting...I have never been so interested in a narrative as I was tonight! And your Viscount's _face_!" he laughed. "Oh, it was so very amusing! Especially when you described the _removal_ of my mask...so very picturesquely, I might to add!"

"Erik," I said. "Erik, stop..."

"Oh, but then that little _subplot_ threw off the whole arc," he said. "You recall the one I mean? About _running away_ _tomorrow evening_?"

"No, Erik," I cried, as I wrapped my arms around his legs. "No..."

"It was far too _stark_ - you must learn to embellish your tales, my dear! _Order your fine horses_...now that adds a certain poetical touch, don't you agree?"

"No, I don't!"

He threw back his head and laughed. He laughed until my ears throbbed with the sound of his voice, and I thought I should die from the pain of it.

"Oh, my beautiful Christine," he said, "my precious little storyteller! How I shall _miss_ you when you go away..."

"I'm not going away," I said, my voice embarrassingly hoarse.

"Come, come, Mademoiselle! Did you not tell the Viscount yourself that he was to drag you off by _force_? To carry you far away from me, whilst I waited _pathetically_ for your return, in the house by the lake?"

"No!" My betrayal sounded so horrible in his mouth...I shuddered at my own wickedness.

"Oh, he will be bitterly disappointed! And after you _promised_ him, too...but then, why should he be surprised, when he knows you take all of your _other_ oaths so _lightly_..."

I inhaled so quickly it became a hiss.

"Tell me," he said, "have you _always_ made promises to _men_ that you don't intend to keep? Just how many _fianc__é__s_ do you have, exactly?"

Something snapped in my chest. My fear was burned away in a rush of piercing white anger.

I leapt to my feet so fast I think even Erik was surprised.

"Stop it...just stop it!" I screamed. "Oh, the way you take my words and twist them...you're _despicable_!"

He regarded my fury in silence, and his silence infuriated me even more.

"I hate you, Erik! Yes...I _hate_ you!"

As soon as the words had left my mouth I gasped, shocked by the enormity of my lie.

He froze, stiff as the statue behind us.

I braced myself, for I knew that he would strike me, strike me as I _deserved_...

But Erik simply turned away from me, and I looked at him in wonder as I saw his body shaking. I thought I heard faint noises, a shuddering, gasping intake of breath, all the more horrible for being nearly silent.

His shoulders shook harder, and I suddenly realized that he was laughing. He turned very slightly in my direction.

"Come, Mademoiselle! I know _that_ can't be true...or did I not hear from your own lips - yes, your own little lips! - that you do not hate me? That you _pity_ me?"

He faced me fully now, his glowing eyes narrowed into fiercesome slits. I cringed.

"Ah!" he laughed. "I _see_ it now...I understand! It was another one of your pretty little lies! Perhaps you meant to make your lover _jealous_, when you told him of the corpse that whisks you underground, for _love_...who _imprisons_ you, for love...but that you do not hate him! That you do not _despise_ it when his cold, bloodless fingers caress your skin...you wish to make De Chagney's blood _boil_ for you, is that it? Oh my dear, passionate Christine, I assure you such tactics are unnecessary. So _utterly_ unnecessary..."

And suddenly he was upon me. He grabbed hold of my wrists and pulled me towards him, his face leaning into mine. I screwed my eyes shut.

"So beautiful. So..._enticing_...you say you do not hate me, Christine..." he whispered desperately, his breath hot upon my neck. "Say it again. Say it _now_..."

"I - I cannot!" I nearly wept. "Not when you're like this! Why must you be so _cruel_? Why do you always demand the impossible from me?"

"Why _not_?" he hissed. "Nobody ever gives Erik what he wants _anyway.._."

In my fury, I balled up my fists and tried to beat against his chest. If my meager efforts made any impact at all it was sheer luck.

"Now, now, Christine...such drama!" His hands slid smoothly up my arms, and he crushed me so close to him that I was pinned. "I never expected it of you! You've been watching La Carlotta too much...perhaps the theatre is exerting an unwholesome effect on you, hmm?"

I was suddenly weary. I leaned heavily into his shoulder, whether out of exhaustion or something more I do not know.

"My dearest," he sighed, trailing his fingers up my neck and into my hair in such a way as made me shiver, "you are too high strung! You forget yourself, you forget your _promises_... why?"

I corralled my thoughts as best I could. I lacked the strength to lie, but my feelings were so conflicted... I had to make sure I said _exactly_ what I meant...

"You frighten me, Erik..." I said slowly. "You _frighten_ me..."

He made a _tsk_ sound.

"But that is a _given_, my dear. How could I expect _otherwise_," he said heavily, "since you have seen me..."

"It _does_ frighten me, Erik," I said, "your face, I mean. I cannot lie about that any more. But, that wasn't what I was thinking of..."

Desperation welled up in me and, with sudden clarity, I knew I couldn't go back.

"Erik!" I said. "Erik, I am so sorry! _You_ frighten me! _You yourself!"_

His hands tightened painfully and I almost cried out.

"You didn't always," I said, the words rushing out of my mouth before I could stop them. "You didn't always frighten me! When you were the voice, when you came to me in my dressing room...with music, and..._kindness_, oh, such kindness that I hadn't known in _such_ a long time!...I was not afraid!...I even believe at that point in time that...that I _loved_ you...

I heard his quick intake of breath.

"But then I met you!..._All_ of you...for the first time! I was your prisoner, in a room with no doors..._no doors_, Erik...and then _you_, and your _mask_, and you _would_ say _such_ things to me...and...and you sleep in a _coffin_, for God's sake!"

I felt his chest move rhythmically in quick, sudden bursts.

"Pity me, Erik!" I said. "Pity me, for I am afraid of you! God help me..._I'm in love the voice_...but I am afraid of _you_!"

Erik groaned like an animal. He grabbed my arms roughly, positioning me in such a way that I gazed directly into his eyes.

"Christine!" He said brokenly. "Oh, _Christine_! Do not fear me, _never_ fear me...oh how could you believe that I would _ever_ do you harm? That I could do anything other than _love_ you..."

He held my face in his hands, lovingly caressing my skin, and I accepted it all with horrified fascination.

"You love the voice," he said wonderingly, "You admit it! You admit it to me...oh, you are a good girl, Christine, such a _good girl!_ I hoped...I _suspected_...oh, Christine, can't you understand that _voice and I are the same person?_ Not a word was spoken by the voice that I did not mean with all my heart...the voice loved you..._I love you!"_

He pulled me close to him once more, burying his mask in my hair. I cautiously put my hands on his chest. I could feel his ribs under my fingers, the frantic beating of his heart...

"I can no longer be your angel," he whispered desperately, "but oh, Christine, let me _try_! We could live in an ordinary flat, with ordinary doors...I would not frighten you! I would be as gentle as a lamb, we would do whatever you wished...I may be a villain, but _damnit_, let me _try!"_

I stood dumbly, my fingers absently stroking the front of his shirt.

It was this moment that I had dreaded, the moment that, with my fear and stupid games, I had tried to put off.

I thought of the horrible rumors that swept through the Opera company about the ghost...

I thought of Joseph Buquet, dangling pathetically from the rafters...

I thought of Raoul, and of all the people who would suffer if I refused Erik now...

I thought of my own happiness.

"Erik," I said, my heart beating so hard I wondered if he could hear it. "Erik, _I will try too_."

And somehow his mask was gone, and his lips were upon mine, and I tasted the salt of tears on his tongue as it swept through my mouth...his tears or mine I still do not know. I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him closer, and his hands ran over my body till I thought I would die. My heart was on fire...

...and it was not fire from heaven.

When Raoul came to my dressing room the next day, all he found was a little note.

The Phantom had claimed me, exactly as I had said he would.


End file.
